


Work Hard, Be Kind

by ymorton



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>eh, just wanted porn. mild d/s, oral fixation, age difference, etc!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Hard, Be Kind

**Author's Note:**

> very, very VERY fake!!!
> 
> tumblr?? yaaa ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com

The first time Harry eats her out, he stays down there for ages. She comes twice, and he won’t stop- his eager little mouth working noisily, tongue slipping over her until it actually starts to hurt, feels dripping and swollen and too-sensitive.

"Harry," she says, sternly, wiping sweaty hair off her forehead. She gasps, shudders as he sucks at her clit, all slick, wet, warm tongue. "Up from there." 

Harry doesn’t obey. Instead he drops his head to the mattress in front of her spread legs, grinds his hips forward desperately, lets out a strangled gasp. 

She lifts her head. “Harry?” 

"Please," he gasps out, looking utterly undone, frotting hard against the bed. "Please-" 

"What do you want, darling?" she says, softly, sitting up, and when she slips her hand into his hair he moans loud, says- breathless- "Hold me down." 

"Which bit of you would you like me to hold down?" she says, just slightly amused, and he nudges his head into her palm, a clear invitation. 

So she does.

She presses his face into the mattress with her hand and watches him thrash, watches him grind and grind and grind his cock into the mattress. It’s quite nice, honestly- watching him get off this way, desperate and young and wanton, after he’s had his head between her thighs for ages. Something a bit kinky about it, in a way that sends a nice little shiver up her spine. 

"Come on, darling," she says, low in her throat, petting his head and then forcing it down again, until his mouth is open against cotton sheets and he’s choking just a bit. "There’s a good boy. Such a good boy. Come on now, let it out." 

He sobs as he comes, muffled into the mattress, and shudders to a stop, his head quivering under her palm. She lets him up. His face is red, his eyes teary. He’s shaking, and he quietly crawls up and puts his face into her naked lap, curls there. 

She puts a hand on his back, rubs back and forth, considering it. 

"Alright, love?" she says, and he mumbles something incoherent. His lips brush against the inside of her thigh, and she shudders, pulls gently at his hair, combs through it with her fingers. He lets out a soft warm exhale - still so close to her, her thigh, her cunt, and it’s lovely. He’s lovely, but it’s too much. 

"Up," she says, because he’s nosing his way towards her again, licking all the skin he can reach, hungry and eager. "Harry,  _up_.” 

He lifts his head and she gives him a kiss, short and soft. He tastes like her and his lips are full, mouth swollen and overworked.

"That’s enough," she says, gentle but firm, and he nods, says, "Sorry," the low roughness of his voice surprising her, coming from that angelic face, that red red mouth. 

"It was lovely, though," she whispers. "You’re very good at that." 

He flushes, goes dark-eyed at the praise, runs his hand up her stomach and cups a breast in one hand, thumbs over her nipple, which goes traitorously hard under his finger. 

"I like it," he says, and she snorts. 

"Yeah, I think I got that." 

He laughs too, and the strange tension between them snaps, and he’s just Harry- too-big-for-his-britches Harry, who held her hand walking out of the club and opened the car door for her and kissed like he knew just what he was doing, confident and open-mouthed. 

"It’s alright," she breathes, when she realizes he’s dropped his head again, breathed out hard through his mouth like he’s belatedly ashamed. "Oh, shh. Darling, it’s alright." 

"Sorry," he says again, shivering, curling in on himself. "It’s just- a lot." 

She wonders what he means. The whole evening? Or just the sex? The way he came completely undone as he licked her out, the way he asked her to hold him down, the way he frotted against the sheets until he came just from the rough friction then crawled into her lap like a scolded child-

"It was good," she says. "You were good. Quite good, Harry Styles." 

"A good boy," he says wryly, echoing her from earlier, not making eye contact. She kisses the side of his ear messily, strokes his long, warm back, feeling an odd twinge of sadness about it all. 

"There’s nothing wrong with what you want," she says softly - maybe stupidly. It’s none of her business, really. She’s shagged him three or four times, she’s not his bloody therapist, and it’s not her job to analyze what he likes in bed. 

Harry just exhales, a rough little sound, and then pulls back, says, “Gonna- have a shower.” 

He stalks naked into the bathroom, all gangly limbs and pale skin, and she watches him go, chewing her bottom lip. 

Well, honestly. If this is what Harry wants- needs, even - she can give it to him. Her end of the bargain’s not too bad, after all.


End file.
